Day Seventy-Four: Strive for Perfection

From the time that I was very young, I was taught to try my best at everything. I was taught that to give your all at everything you do means to live your best life, and take advantage of your full potential. I was taught to get the best I can, too: the best opportunities, that is. But the more I learn about life, I wonder how hard I should try for the best opportunities in life. At what point are we supposed to sacrifice something that's good, and try for something better?

There are plenty of people in the world who live in mediocre relationships, and have mediocre or somewhat good jobs. They're not 100% happy in their relationships, or maybe they like their jobs for the most part, but not all the time. Is it more important to look for a better opportunity, and search for a job that makes you 100% happy all the time? Although it's extremely difficult, a lot of people live their lives like that, striving to be 100% happy. But is it really possible? What's wrong with being 80% happy, or mostly happy? Is it possible for anyone to be 100% happy with the person they're with, all the time?

Call me pessimistic, but I don't think so. I don't think it's really possible to be 100% happy with every situation you're in. A lot of people may like their jobs, but they don't like certain things about it, or certain situations that arise in their jobs. And a lot of people may really love the person they're with, but almost everybody gets annoyed with the person they're with sometimes, or not like certain things about their partner.

So maybe, it's okay to have a life with flaws. A wise person told me not to long ago that if you're happy in the moment, it doesn't really make a difference to try to plan out your future. If you're mostly happy, and mostly content, why give up something perfectly good in your life because something better might come along? I don't think you should.

Day Sixty-Seven: We Can't Save the World

I have been fortunate enough in life to not have to see much tragedy. I've seen some: a boy I went to high school with died in a car crash, I've known people who had terrible childhoods. But I've never actually seen real tragedy and sadness up close. I've been lucky enough to not lose anyone who didn't die of old age, or watch a pet die of the same. But not long ago, I saw real tragedy occur as close to me as I ever had.

Sometimes, situations can't be helped. But to think that somehow in the process of watching something innocent and sad happen to an undeserving being, we could have done something to prevent it from happening, it's a thought that can't be easily pushed away. Could I have done something better? What about the situation could I have changed? And once we realize that there may not have been anything we could do to change the outcome, we still feel guilty. And that's where I am now.

And it's terrible. It's difficult. And I don't know what to say about it.

Day Forty-Five: The Famous (or Infamous) Valentine's Day

For as long as Valentine's has no longer been about buying paper Valentines for classmates and getting free candy and lots of hugs, I've not been a fan. There has never been anything fun to me about bedecking everything in sight in hearts, arrows, and naked babies in obnoxiously bright and cutesy colors that are usually also either fuzzy or shiny. I hate that Hallmark brings out their 2nd largest collection of overpriced cardboard greetings covered in glitter. But most of all, I hate that it's a holiday where it becomes mandatory, to most gentlemen, to buy their ladies roses, candy, or dinner, and on the other side of things, men are expected to receive a little lovin' in return. This is an absolutely disgusting concept.

I've always believed that if you're in love with someone, you don't need a designated greeting card holiday to celebrate it. Honestly, if I got flowers or candy or dinner on a night that isn't Valentine's Day, I'd be happier. At least, this is how I felt until last year.

Last year, I somewhat begrudgingly went with my boyfriend to dinner, which ended up being very, very nice. We picked a great place, had a wonderful dinner, and I got a box of Godiva chocolate. I felt...very special. And apparently, by the angry and jealous looks from every other woman in the restaurant, I was also very lucky. This year, although I'm still not extremely adamant about Valentine's Day, I am looking forward to it. However, if we had chosen to to celebrate, I wouldn't have been too upset. We're not getting each other gifts this year, mostly because we don't feel like going through the trouble and we don't really have the money. I would much rather spend a nice evening in than having to wrack my brain trying to come up with a good gift idea, and I'm sure my boyfriend feels the same way.

So I have waved my white flag of defeat in my battle against Valentine's Day, but it was a long battle waged. The problem, I sheepishly admit, is that no one had ever made me feel special on Valentine's Day. So although I claimed year after year that I did not dislike Valentine's Day because I was single, it probably did have something to do with my feelings towards it. I wasn't bitter about it because I was single, but no one had ever given me a reason to not be annoyed by it. And despite the fact that I no longer hate Valentine's Day, I still really do hate shiny hearts and cupids and those stupid little candy hearts with pointless messages that taste like chalk. But despite all that -- Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate it.

Day Thirty-Six: How Much Love is Enough?

From the time us females are little girls in pink dress-up dresses watching Cinderella and The Little Mermaid, we're taught that our Prince is out there somewhere. He might be sailing the open seas, looking for the girl who fits his slipper, or trying to kiss the girl to wake her from her perpetual sleep. But once we hit a certain age (hopefully), we females realize that this is a great story and a wonderful dream to have, but it's also a load of crap. No one, not ourselves, and definitely not our Prince Charming, are perfect. But that doesn't mean we have to take the first Shmo who falls for us and we don't hate, either. 

I read an article linked from MSN.com today about a woman who wrote a book explaining that other women need to settle in order to live the lives they want to live. If they want to be married and have a family, they can't keep looking for Mr. Right. Sometimes, they just need to accept the fact that they love the man they're with, even if they find him a little boring, or a little stubborn and uncompromising. She says, and rightly so, that if a woman waits around for the man they find to be right for them in all regards, they might be waiting forever. Unfortunately, not all women who want husbands and families end up finding the man who is right for them. So, whether they agree with this woman's advice or not, they probably end up settling. 

But at what price is marriage and children to some? Some women really do want to be mothers and to have families more than anything else in their lives. But to live in a marriage that lacks spark and real love and true devotion, why be in a marriage at all? It seems like a pointless and wasted effort, and not a healthy way to live, at all. But honestly, how many women do find the man they think is perfect for them? Don't almost all women compromise in some regard to what they want? If not, we'd be stamping them out in factories rather than choosing men we adore, flaws and all. 

I'm sure this goes the same for men, as well. No woman is perfect, and if they were, how could you grow and change and learn as a couple? There needs to be a little disagreement in order to grow as people and learn to negotiate and love in times of disagreement. We're a sophisticated species -- compromise is pretty important. But where do we draw the line? Nobody wants someone who has none of the qualities they want in a partner, but it's impossible to find the perfect mate, either. I think obviously, the balance lies in the attributes we're willing to compromise on. And if you're lucky, you find someone who's pretty damn great, regardless of being imperfect. 

Day Thirty-Four: Family is Really Pretty Awesome

I was very fortunate growing up to be so close to my family. Before my parents even met each other, my mother and my aunt were best friends, which made for a great foundation when my mom married her brother, both women had children, and my cousins and I got together. My best memories growing up were driving down to Jersey and creating mass havoc with my two female cousins, one four years older than me, and one two years. We would destroy the peace with My Little Pony extravaganzas, put on elaborate and poorly rehersed magic shows, and create entire living environments for our dolls, complete with kitchen and clothesline. And then, of course, there were the times in the swimming pool, which was my mecca, because to have my very own swimming pool I didn't need to share with anyone was my childhood dream.

So because my mom and my aunt were so close, the three of us grew up very close. I didn't have any siblings, so to me, they were like my sisters (that I unfortunately only got to see two or three times a year). When, at Thanksgiving, my cousin Andrea suggested all the females of our generation, she being the oldest, and the youngest being seventee, get together for a weekend to bond and become closer to each other, I was all for the idea. I still love to visit them, and although our adventures are a lot more worldly than building forts and Lego castles, I still make some of my best memories with them. But unfortunately, no one was really into the idea except the three of us, and their brother's wife, who became an instant cousin to me I wish I had around growing up as well. Although my remaining four female cousins really liked the idea, most of them weren't very adamant about strongly planning the idea. And because when we all get together we all complain that we never see each other enough and never get together, my cousin got upset and somewhat offended, but I can understand why, from their sense. While I wish they'd been more responsive, they did try, and it maybe isn't as exciting to them because they didn't have the same awesome cousin-y memories growing up, as I did.

At the risk of sounding almost untolerably cheesy, people only get one family. You get one set of blood relatives, and nothing can replace them. I consider myself extraordinarily lucky that in a world where so many families don't get along, and so many people even hate spending time with their families, I have the greatest family in the world, and a fantastic relationship with them. Family has always been very important to me, whether it's just the relationship I have with my parents, or seeing my extended family and attempting to get to know my really extended family. It always makes me a little upset when I hear about people really disliking their own family, because that notion is so foreign to me. While I am not at all close with my mother's side of the family, it consists only of my grandparents -- no great aunts, no great uncles, and no aunts or uncles or cousins, because my mother was an only child. And I feel unfailingly guilty about not visiting them more, because they're the only set of grandparents I have left, even if we don't have the best relationship.

So next time you have the option to get to know your family a little better, or get closer to them, do it. You only get one!